


Lords of Lions and Dead Men

by orphan_account



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bad Roose, Boltwin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Loss of Control, M/M, My First Fanfic, Some degree of timeline fuckery, Tywin is actually a very vulnerable man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:09:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11936979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Often calm and always in control, the Lord of Casterly Rock is known for the way he can keep an iron grip on himself, displaying himself as a perfect, emotionless figure of ruthless power.But that could not be farther from the truth. The truth lies only in Roose Bolton.





	Lords of Lions and Dead Men

"My lord," Roose murmured, bowing his head in a respectful gesture as, with an extravagant flourish, Roose swept his northern furs around the back of the chair before taking his seat across from the Hand of the King. 

"Lord Bolton," Tywin mused in an even tone that held a downwards inflection at the end of each sentence. "I trust the journey went well." He raised an eyebrow slightly, gaze raining over Roose as he quietly assessed the northerner, already beginning to use his power to attempt to dominate Lord Bolton. 

But Roose was not the one to be manipulated into submission by the roar of a lion. As his eyes caught Tywin's, he made sure not to flinch as those blue eyes bore into him, knocking aside his armor to see his strengths and weaknesses. 

It came as a surprise when Tywin pulled back, not having been able to truly look into the man as he could easily do anyone else. 

"It has indeed, my lord," Roose replied, putting an edge of contentment to his voice as he sat back in his chair, eyes never straying away from Tywin's as a deep, deceptive brown met a bright, seafoam blue.

They stared at each other for more than just a few minutes, and Tywin admitted to himself that Roose was much less cowardly than the others he'd encountered. So Tywin was the first to lower his eyes, a show of defeat. But he was not bothered in the slightest...the battle might be lost but he knew the war was not over. 

He still had time to win.

He still had time to establish control.

He still had time to show this northerner the lion's true colors.

To make Roose Bolton hear him roar.

Yet, what started out as just a sliver when Roose entered, Tywin felt a powerful sense of submission. As if this man had certain powers over him, although the very idea itself was as ridiculous as it was impossible. 

"Now," Tywin started, voice just a tad shakier than he was comfortable with. "The Crown is grateful that you sided with House Lannister and House Frey. Furthermore, you will bend the knee and you will swear your fealty to your King."

After adjusting his voice, he sounded confident again, a lion sitting behind his gaunt eyes, daring Roose to defy his orders. 

But Roose simply bowed his head, smirking softly as he accepted Tywin's terms. And it was perhaps  _then_ that Tywin felt his throat catch. Roose wore a smirk, a sly little smile that he hadn't seen or allowed himself to remember in decades. 

_Joanna._

Roose's eyes flashed as he picked up the subtle differences in the way Tywin carried himself. Too minuscule for a common man to pick up, but Roose was not a common man. 

First, he was a  _Bolton_. Second, he was a rather smart man. Third, it just so happened that he planned the subjugation of the proud Tywin Lannister, a dangerous conquest that screamed danger and reward equally. 

And Tywin was just so beautifully unaware. 

"You're in pain," Roose commented idly, the words uttered in such a carefree manner, yet they seemed to pierce straight through Tywin like a bolt to his stomach. 

"Lord Bolton, I am sure it is your imagination," Tywin grunted, panic rising as the repressed memories began resurfacing again. 

And he panicked because, despite his reputation, he is a rather emotional man, easily coaxed into anger or fear. He is simply a master of disguise, a master of hiding his emotions, but the dark cloud of pain surrounding Joanna's death and Tyrion's birth haunts him to the point where it crippled his shields. 

And Roose watched with a triumphant stare as the lion before him slowly transformed back into the human Roose knew he was. 

_'Everyone has a weakness,'  Roose explained to Ramsay as they tread through the Dreadfort corridors._

_'But weakness shouldn't be exploited,' Ramsay responded, still a child at the time. 'Mother told me not to throw stones at cripples.'_

_'No, son," Roose commented, knowing the effect of calling him 'son' had on Ramsay. He wanted Ramsay to remember this. 'You aim for their head.'_

Here Roose sat, watching Tywin tremble in the slightest, and he remembered to throw that stone, throw it straight at Tywin's head. Break his shields towards the Lord of Dreadfort forever.

And one single stab wouldn't do it. It would take thousands of jabs, each one carefully stated so he could properly throw that stone. 

"Should I call for Grand Maester Pycelle?" Roose asked softly, observing Tywin meticulously. 

"That isn't necessary," Tywin snapped, and Roose basked in his pain. 

Tywin wanted to shout, to break something, to order Roose's execution for his boldness. 

Question after question came, each one breaking him down further and further. Asking if he was alright. Cunningly placed questions about his past. And then...

"Is it Joanna?"

Tyrin rose to his feet with a strangled roar. He meant to be intimidating, but instead, he sounded like a needy child.  _How could a_ northerner _have done this to me..._

Roose rose as well, a sadistic gleam in his eyes as Tywin paced towards him, anger clearly written on his face. 

"How  _dare_ -" But before he could finish, he was in Roose's arms, the northern hands holding him steadily. 

Tywin gasped and made an angered sound before he felt that wave of submission again, and he falls into Roose's arms fully as the other man gently caressed his back, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. 

He felt anger clawing at him - he wasn't some  _child_ who's temper had to be quenched with a gentle hug and soft words. He was the Lord of Casterly Rock, he was the Hand of the King, he was...

He was completely in Roose Bolton's control. 

"Would you like to escort me to the Tower of the Hand?" Roose asked gently, fingers running through Tywin's sparse hair. "I'm sure it will be more comfortable there."

There it was. Roose's final intention revealed to Tywin. If Tywin refused him now, all would have been for nothing. The Hand of the King would not be his. The gold of Casterly Rock would not be his. But if Tywin accepted...

"Of course," Tywin finally said, regaining some, if not all of his confidence.  _I must let them see the lion...the lion, not the human..._

Roose's smile widened and he nodded slowly.

In time, it would all be his.

 

...

 

The Tower of the Hand was rather well decorated and in good taste. Roose saw this immediately and looked around, eyes drinking in his surroundings hungrily. 

Yet he did not wait long before turning his full attention to Tywin, and a confused moment later, their lips were tightly pressed together, Roose's hand traveling down Tywin's side. 

Something clicked inside the Lord of Casterly Rock as he opened his arms, allowing Roose more access.

Of course, after Joanna's death, he'd had his share of whores now and then. None of them touched him the way Roose did, and when his hands gently pulled his breeches aside to reveal a still ample length, a part of Tywin comes alive again, the part that died with Joanna. 

Roose quickly finished undressing the other man, and Tywin never felt more vulnerable as Roose's traveled down his frame. Minutes later, Roose smiled a soft, sly smile, and gently brought Tywin closer, knowing full well how fragile he'd made this man.

It almost seemed like  _magic_ , the way Roose slowly forced Tywin's shields away. The most powerful man in Westeros, the proud Lion of Lannister, brutal in both the battlefield and in court, was reduced to nothing but a trembling mess, begging like a whore for Roose, a simple Bannerman of the traitorous King in the North. Even if anyone were to hear, they would not believe it. And they both knew this.

Roose bent over to reach for Tywin's cock, hand closing around it sturdily.

And more memories of Joanna arose from the depths of Tywin's mind. The feeling he's allowed himself to forget, to bury...it came up like a tempest, swallowing him whole. 

So he  _whined_  when Roose releasds him all of a sudden, making Joanna's memories scatter as well. 

Roose simply smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. Tywin understood, and although a wave of shame hit him, he didn't dare refuse. He wanted to feel Roose again, to feel Joanna's memory through Roose's body. 

He sank to his knees under the request of Roose's hand and he savored the feeling of Roose's fingers in his hair, petting him like he was a puppy of some sort. 

Roose kept his fingers in Tywin's hair as the Hand of the fucking King undid his breeches and revealed his own member, long and slender. Tywin's eyes flicked up to Roose's, asking for permission before he was granted it.

It all seemed to come so naturally with the Lord of Dreadfort.

The submission, the subjugation, the obedience. Tywin imagined he inspired that sort of loyalty in his men, but coming from the house who's banner was literally the flayed man, it had to  _fear_ that bound Roose's men to him.

But Tywin was not  _afraid_ of Roose. He simply wanted to revive that part of him that died all those years ago. And if it meant submitting to the northerner, the only other being who was able to coax such emotions from him, then he would do so. 

_Obediently_ , Tywin opened his mouth and took Roose inside, swallowing him whole.

_What was that Olenna said about Ser Loras? A sword swallower through and through?_ Tywin mused as he began using his mouth in earnest.  _I have become no better than that_ boy  _from Highgarden._

Yet he did not stop, each pass of his tongue sending shivers through Roose's frame, making his fingers turn rough as they pulled at Tywin's hair, eliciting the most exquisite noises from the man. 

When he felt a warmth begin pooling in his gut, he forcefully pulled Tywin away from his cock and he helped the older man to his feet.

"You must know what I want," he chuckled at Tywin, gaze inexplicably warm. Tywin allowed himself to drown in the depths of brown, fields of dirt he rebuilt the strength of House Lannister upon, singlehandedly bringing glory to his dying house. 

He had found a place where he could truly be free. No longer the tactical genius. No longer the political piranha. He simply  _was_. Simply  _is_. 

Without the need anymore to express his dominance, to inspire fear in his subjects, he bent over his own bed, spreading his legs for the northerner who knew the right words to say, the right stones to throw. 

And the sight inspires something different in Roose. 

For a moment, the gold and the power fall from view, and it is simply  _Tywin_ he sees, needy for true care through his emotionless life. He felt a twinge of guilt upon seeing what he'd done, but it was no wrong he couldn't right. 

He took Tywin slow, that night, playing the Hand's body like an instrument, dragging out each little sound through caring hands and an insistent drive. 

And Tywin was grateful. 

Tywin heard a strange moan from his own throat, a sound he didn't know he was capable of making, as Roose came, riding him through his orgasm.

Murmurs of thanks bubbled up as Roose slowly rolled him on his stomach, cradling him into a gentle sleep. 

The dream of gold was definitely gone now, the promise of power evaporated. He would have both, but it was not his concern. His concern was the man sleeping gently in his arms.

The man who had allowed him to see a part of him that all Seven Kingdoms of Westeros was not allowed to see. 

The part of Tywin that was  _not_ perfect. 

The part of Tywin that was pained.

The part of Tywin that died.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos always welcome!
> 
> Since this is my first fic, I'd love some feedback!


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